


Behavioral Correction

by Quinqafterdark (Quinquangularist)



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Anal Sex, Choking, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Oral Sex, Prison Sex, dnf prison visit, like its bad if thats a trigger for u maybe dont get into this one, warden sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:54:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29315892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quinquangularist/pseuds/Quinqafterdark
Summary: "Dream,” Sam says, and dread settles in George’s gut at the sound of it, “can you recite to me the rules regarding your visitation privileges?"George watches Dream’s adam’s apple bob and his lips part.“The first rule is-” his voice is small, and Sam shakes his head minutely.“So that I can hear you, Dream. Start again.”George feels as though he is seeing something he shouldn’t be. Dream blinks, inhales shakily, “Yes sir, sorry sir. Rule one: I am not to cause harm to my guests.”"Good, go on.""Rule two: I am to remain quietly in my cell while my guests are escorted to me," Dream shakes slightly, George notices, “Rule th- rule three: my conduct must serve as an example of the correctional facility to the public. Rule four-”“Stop now, Dream. You’ve done very well, that’s all I needed,” Dream’s shoulders visibly relax, and George feels nausea rise up in him, "now would you care to explain to me what you were doing to our guest, Dream?"
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/Sam | Awesamedude
Comments: 39
Kudos: 283





	Behavioral Correction

**Author's Note:**

> yoooo i said itd be a few days but it was only one >:3  
> come find me @Quinqafterdark on twitter baybee!!

It feels so wonderful to have Dream in his arms again, under his hands again, after so long. George watches Dream let his head fall back against the obsidian wall, lips parted and reddened as George slides his hip between his thighs. God, he’s missed this, and Dream has too, clinging for dear life like George will fade away if he’s not careful, large hands all over George’s back,his shoulders, his chest, his ass as Dream pulls him in closer. George hums into Dream’s neck, “I missed you too,” and kisses just beneath his jaw, and smiles as Dream gasps, ruts into his hip desperately, “Dream, chill, we have so much time, and I’ll be back soon. Now,” George murmurs into his neck, presses his shoulder gently, “want to show me how much you’ve missed me?” 

Dream smiles, and the light George hasn’t seen since he got here returns to his eyes as he raises an eyebrow, scoffs with affectionate disdain, and begins to sink down, “Sure,” he says, “you can be my prison bitch,”

“Oh, yeah right, like I’m the bitch in the equation.” 

“Aren’t you?”

“Not from where I’m standing,” George smiles, runs a hand through dirty blond hair that had grown over his incarceration, “and certainly not from where you’re kneeling.”

There is a moment of silence, where George looks down at him, beautiful and vibrant and alive despite the hollowness of his cheeks, the dullness of his skin and the scruff on his face, and Dream bursts into giggles, hands either side of George’s hips as George, gradually losing his composure, does the same. 

The noise is jarring, when it hits George’s ears, and Dream springs back like he’s been burned, eyes wide. George frowns, “What? What is it-”

"Dream. Stand. Eyes forward and face the wall," The curtain of flame parts and the warden steps through, trident in hand and looks from Dream to George and back again. George makes to protest but Dream has risen to his feet, turns to face the black stone as though trained to, hands clasped behind his back. George’s stomach sinks and Sam steps toward him, looming in the cramped cell and glittering with netherite. 

“Give me your hand, George,” he says, voice cold, and George steps back, watches Dream stare blankly at the wall, unmoving. 

“What-”

“Your hand,” Sam stretches his own hand out, large and calloused, and the hairs on George’s neck stand on end. He places his thin hand palm down on Sam’s broad one, can't look away from Dream, wants to call out to him. There is a sharp metallic click, and then George is moving, dragged back and shoved down, the metallic sound returns and George is bound to the steel frame of the bed bolted to the cell wall. 

“Thank you,” Sam states, clipped and businesslike. He turns away from George, rolls up the sleeves of his uniform and George tears his eyes from Dream’s expressionless face to watch the muscle of Sam’s forearm twist as he moves, feels his own stomach twist the same way.

"Dream,” Sam says, and dread settles in George’s gut at the sound of it, “can you recite to me the rules regarding your visitation privileges?" 

George watches Dream’s adam’s apple bob and his lips part.

“The first rule is-” his voice is small, and Sam shakes his head minutely.

“So that I can hear you, Dream. Start again.” 

George feels as though he is seeing something he shouldn’t be. Dream blinks, inhales shakily, “Yes sir, sorry sir. Rule one: I am not to cause harm to my guests.” 

"Good, go on." 

"Rule two: I am to remain quietly in my cell while my guests are escorted to me," Dream shakes slightly, George notices, “Rule th- rule three: my conduct must serve as an example of the correctional facility to the public. Rule four-”

“Stop now, Dream. You’ve done very well, that’s all I needed,” Dream’s shoulders visibly relax, and George feels nausea rise up in him, "now would you care to explain to me what you were doing to our guest, Dream?"

"I- we were- he and I um," Dream looks as though he might cry. Sam raises his eyebrows, 

"You were what?" 

"-We were going to... to fuck. Sir," Dream bites out. 

Sam sighs, "Dream would you consider public sex appropriate behaviour to serve as an example for the correctional facility?" a cold shock lances up George’s spine. 

"No, sir." 

"I see. Do you feel that you were coerced in any way?" 

"I wasn't coerced sir," Dream shakes his head, and Sam’s netherite boots clack loudly on the hard floor as he crosses the room, stands behind him. 

"Hm,” he says, looks Dream up and down, “I'd expected better of you." 

"I’m sorry sir," he murmurs, jaw tight and lip shaking.

"Are you?" 

"What?" 

"Are you sorry, Dream?” and Sam presses the staff of his trident between Dream's legs and he gasps, still facing the wall as his legs buckle slightly, “You don’t seem very sorry to me," he mocks, and for perhaps the first time in his life, George hears Dream whimper.

"Please, sir," Dream breathes, and Sam shakes his head and sighs. 

"Knees, Dream," and Dream drops without hesitation, "I really don't know what you expect me to do with you. Are you proud of yourself? Of whoring yourself out to get what, a contact? Someone you can trust? Because I can assure you Dream,” Sam takes a handful of Dream’s hair, tugs his head back and Dream swallows thickly, “There is no cock you can suck to get you out of here. He'll leave when I tell him to and after today I'm really not sure that it'd be in your best interests to let him come back." 

Dream glances at George but Sam snaps, "Eyes on the wall," and Dream's eyes snap forward, jaw clenched as he shakes.

Dream squeezes his eyes shut and Sam makes his way back over to George, places the trident under his chin with a look of disinterest, and George tilts his head up at him, but he's still watching Dream, stomach roiling. He's never seen Dream so... helpless.

"George," Sam says, and George finally looks at him, "were you or were you not made aware of the rules of visitation when you arrived?" 

"Sam, what the fuck-" 

"Answer the question."

"I- was made aware, yes." 

"Did you choose to ignore the regulations regarding inappropriate behaviour?" 

George watches his dead eyes, almost wishes he had that stupid creeper mask on so that George wouldnt have to look at him, "Sam, this is fucking insane-" 

"You're not being very cooperative George,” Sam presses the trident forward just slightly, and George swallows, feels the pointed tip dig in as his adam's apple shifts, ”I would hate to have to exert force." 

George locks his jaw, glares up at him.

"You don’t scare me."

_ "I should." _

George glances over to Dream again, watches him shake, breaths uneven. He’s been perfectly still since he was left, and Sam tracks George’s gaze, rolls his eyes and clicks his fingers on his left hand, still holding the trident up to George's throat. Dream rises, moves to stand at Sam's side. 

"Go to your visitor," Sam says, and Dream makes his way toward George, hesitant, and then Sam states "knees," like before and like before, Dream drops without thinking.

"Good boy."

George is still watching Dream wants to reach out, to ask what the fuck is going on, to snap him out of this, but Dream is staring forward, shuts his eyes as Sam cards calloused fingers through his unruly hair, "Dream, I believe you left your visitor with a problem."

Dreams eyes flicker toward the seam of George’s jeans, and if looks could kill George would’ve burnt Sam to pure carbon by now, but Sam doesn't even make eye contact, just gently nudges the base of Dream's spine with a heavy boot, murmurs, "posture," and watches Dream straighten, pull his shoulders back.

George grits his teeth.

"The rules state that aside from being handed objects, the prisoner is not allowed to touch visitors, but seeing as this will be your last visit George, an exception can be made."

"Fuck you," George spits, and Sam scoffs, shakes his head with a smile. 

"Dream, please pull George's zipper down. You might not get an ally out of it but seeing as you were so determined to before I arrived, you can still suck his cock."

George’s unbound hand flies to Dream’s face, searches desperately for some sign of him, some defiance, some of the strength he knows so well, finds none, "Dream, you don't have to, I’m sorry Dream, I'm going to come back," 

"George, silence please." 

The trident digs into his throat, draws blood that spills, hot, onto the collar of his shirt. George shuts up.

"Thank you."

Even under the circumstances, Dream’s mouth is good. Hot and wet and silky and George’s jaw drops slightly as Dream takes him in, slow, teases with his tongue. He’s always been good at this, at turning George into a mess with his perfect lips. Sam watches Dream, something akin to pride in his eyes, before unequipping his trident and telling Dream to keep his hands still in a quiet rumble. There is a snap of steel and Dream is bound as well, leaning forward on spread knees and nosing at George’s hip desperately, swallowing around him, and George just barely stifles a moan. Now that there's no blade at his throat though, George is torn between spitting obscenities at Sam, and grabbing hold of Dream's hair, telling him he's not going to stay away, he'll be back, he'll always come back. He chooses the latter. 

George isn't sure if the tears on Dream's cheeks are because of George hitting the back of his throat or the words he says. He's not even entirely sure Dream is processing anything he's saying at all, but Sam sinks to his knees behind Dream, reaches a hand forward and cups George's jaw, makes George look at him and quietly, clearly, repeats, "George? silence please."

George snaps his head to the side and tries to bite down in the hand, but Sam snatches it away, grabs hold of his face with bruising force, prying George’s jaws apart and growls "Behave, or I'll slit your throat and make him watch."

It's the first direct threat Sam has given him, and George feels it, electric down his spine and coiling in his gut as Dream pulls back to gasp for air, not letting the head fall from his lips and gently sucking when the chill of his breath along damp skin makes George leak precome onto his tongue, and George twitches, tries to keep his hips from bucking. Sam raises an eyebrow at him, and George glares, sucks in a breath and spits at him, hitting the side of his face and the saliva slides down his cheek as he shakes his head, a sick satisfaction taking root in George. 

Sam presses him back, palm against windpipe, and George feels the back of his head hit the wall harshly, handcuffs clinking around the bed frame as Dream slips off once more, leaning over his lap and desperately taking George back between his lips. 

"That wasn't very nice,'' Sam says, deadpan, and wipes his face with the back of his free hand, feels George swallow against his palm, "maybe Dream isn't the only person here who needs behavioural correction," he states, casually. Dream moans around George at the mention of his name. George’s hips jerk and Sam smiles, "yes, Dream, you're doing good, in fact, I'm going to help you out, give you something nice, and maybe it'll help George learn his place."

Sam lowers himself and moves forward, presses up against Dream, and George watches as Dream presses back, possessive anger and disgust roiling in his stomach as Sam rubs a hand over the hem of the coarse canvas trousers Dream wears. The warden glances at George, feels him tense under his hand and twitch with barely contained rage, and chuckles, "Did you not tell him about this, Dream? Did you not tell George how good you've been for me?" 

His hand slips up under Dream's shirt, over the base of his spine and Dream shudders, mouth still full as Sam continues, "he really is getting much better. At the beginning we had a few... incidents, but by the time we're finished he'll be perfectly adjusted, a model citizen, isn't that right Dream?" and he removes the hand from his back, tangles long fingers in Dream's hair and pulls him off with a slick pop that makes George gasp, "I said, isn't that right, Dream?" 

Dream pants for a moment, stares forward with tears streaming down his face before croaking "Yes, sir." 

Sam releases him, "back to work Dream, good boy," he says, and Dream nods, already pushing himself back down. 

George grits his teeth, struggles against the hand, wraps his own fingers around Sam’s wrist in a vain attempt to free himself that Sam shrugs off like it’s nothing.

"You’re sick- you’re fucking torturing him, Sam you bastard-" George hisses as he feels the hand around his throat tighten, and Sam sighs like George is an insect who’d gotten into his room, a stain on his shirt.

"Y'know I had really hoped you'd see what we're trying to do here, George. Dream needs help. He's a danger to himself and to others,” he runs a hand along Dream’s waist, “this is for his own good, and besides," Sam tugs the canvas pants down, squeezes the softness between ass and thigh, "as long as he does as he's told, it's an entirely enjoyable experience. As humane as we can make it."

Sam's hand shifts and George watches him pull something out of his pocket, a little bottle. He snarls and struggles, claws at Sam's wrist and Sam begins to laugh, "I really don't know what you think you're going to achieve with that," and moves again. Dream almost howls as Sam gently, slowly takes a plug out of him, one that must’ve been in him the entire time George was there, uncorks the bottle and coats a hand with the viscous gel inside.

"He's gotten so well behaved," Sam murmurs, runs his slick hand over Dream and smiles as he shudders, "when he isn't exposed to bad influences, anyway."

George grunts as Dream swallows around his cock, feels his thighs twitch despite the incandescent rage that blinds him. Sam removes his hand and George watches Dream arch up after it, snarls as Sam unzips heavy combat pants, murmurs praises to Dream as he runs his slick palm over himself. 

"Ready Dream?" he asks, voice kind, and Dream moans, George bucking into his mouth accidentally at the feeling and feeling Dream choke, splutter..

The hand around George's throat loosens as Sam gently presses forward, and he gasps, coughs, hisses, "I'm gonna tell everyone, I'm going to tell every single person on this server what you're doing to-"

"George,” Sam snaps, and George watches Dream stiffen, watches the hand that rests at the base of his spine rub gently until he relaxes again, “Dream requested that I do this. Fucking begged me for it." 

Something cold worms its way into George's chest.

"I don't believe you," he spits, venomous, and Sam rolls his eyes. 

"So quick to make me a villain," he murmurs, finally bottoming out and Dream sobs, before being tugged back up again and the wet noise of it makes George squirm as Dream huffs hot breaths over his skin, "tell him Dream. Tell him why I fuck you," 

"George-" Dream sobs, cracking and quiet as Sam completely removes the hand on George's throat, uses it to hold Dream up, so large it spreads across his chest, "George I was so lonely," he cries, sucks unsteady breaths through his teeth, shakes his head, and Sam pets his hair. 

"You think i'd do this without being asked? I have someone to go home to, George, I don’t need another hole to fuck." 

"It's- but it's punishment," George stammers, sick to his stomach, and Sam nods.

"It's a reward too. Besides," he pauses to thank Dream, pet his hair cursorily and press him back down, before rolling his hips and pushing George deeper, "this isn't Dream's punishment. it's yours." George growls, digs his nails into Sam’s forearm and gets his neck squeezed for it, vision blurring and spinning as the pressure cuts oxygen from his brain.

“This isn’t bothering Dream, in fact,” Sam reaches underneath him, pulls his hand back and shows his palm to George, slick with precome, “he’s having a wonderful time. It does bother you though, George. Possessive, aren’t we?”

Sam fucks Dream down onto George steadily, Dream swallowing around him and gasping for air as Sam pulls back, and George snarls and hisses and yells, "Fuck you!" with a voice that scratches, over and over, feels himself begin to shake. 

Sam rolls his eyes, murmurs, "Oh my god, shut up, isn't this getting old?" and shoves his broad thumb into George's mouth, tasting of metal and leather, pushing his jaw down so he can't bite. It hurts, and his jaw is pressed harshly toward his chest as saliva pools under his tongue. He tries to bring his upper jaw down, but can’t get any force behind it, swallows and chokes slightly around the long digit that pushes against his molars.

“There, that’s better,” Sam murmurs, snapping his hips forward, forcing George deep into Dream and George can feel the spit and precome slide down him and soak into the cotton of his boxers. All George can do is pant wetly, moan as the tight, wet heat constricts, and it's been so long, hes missed this so much, even the heavy weight of his mouth wrenched open and the clink of the cuffs isn't enough to take the feeling away, and he comes down Dream's throat with a loud moan. Sam thrusts forward a few more times, and George whines as Dream chokes on him, convulses at the abuse of his gag reflex, but eventually Sam slows, and George goes limp, sucked dry. Sam pulls his hand back, wipes saliva off on George’s shirt and lifts Dream off up gently, not by his hair this time, lets him sit back into his lap, broad hand splayed, steadying, on his chest as George watches Dream, glassy eyed and shuddering, bounced up and down on Sam's cock with short breaths that turn into moans on the upstroke. 

"Doing so well, Dream," he murmurs, lips pressed to Dream's neck and he moans desperately. George rubs his jaw, glares at Sam and wipes drool from his chin. 

"If that was my punishment, what the fuck are you going to do to him?" George slurs, pulls against the cuffs, still breathless, and Sam smiles, shakes his head, "not yet, yours isn't finished."

George snarls, pulls his bound hand with enough force to be painful and watches Dream move in Sam's lap, stare into space, let his eyes slip shut as Sam pulls punch-drunk moans from his reddened lips. George's guts twist and he bares his teeth, "Tell me! Fucking bastard, what are you gonna do to him!?" 

"Sit still and behave, George," Sam growls, and George wants to kick, wants to scream, to cry, clenches his jaw instead and yells, 

"Tell me!" 

Sam hisses and George's stomach twists up at the sound, more mob than human, and then he calms, fixes George with a cold stare, takes a hand off Dream's chest to reach into his inventory. Dream moans, breath hitching and George watches him tilt his face to press into Sam's temple. 

"Fine," he says, voice cold and steady even as he thrusts up hard enough that Dream's gold curls bounce, "This is Dream's punishment, George," Sam says, as Dream lets out a whine, spills all over the coarse cloth of his trouser leg, and George hears a click. 

The crossbow bolt hits him between the eyes, there is pain, and then there is dark. 

George wakes up in the prison waiting room. The pain in his jaw and wrist, neither of which he had noticed, are gone. George breathes, tucks himself back into his jeans and sits up. Aside from the slow bubbling of the magma, the respawn room is silent, and the orange light makes the dark walls feel oppressive, like they’re closing in. There is no warden to escort him to his locker, so he takes his keycard from his back pocket, takes his belongings from the locker. On shaky legs, he staggers back into the foyer, steps and even breath echoing against the walls. The halls are empty. The portal hums, and the air around it crackles with energy. The dark seems to gather in corners, and George takes a deep breath. George stares, deep into the prison, and then turns and walks through. 


End file.
